Generations: Dooku
by mtfrosty
Summary: First in a new series! Character study... discover the Jedi that Yoda describes as a "shadow. Slippery, subtle, and clever... and yet the boy has reached his heart somehow and he knows that he'll never be free of that soft grip." Collection of one-shots from the life of one Jedi Master Dooku/Darth Tyranus...
1. Chapter 1

_Summary:_ First in a new series, like the other summary said. It's a series written from Yoda's perspective that will focus on a number of different Jedi (this one is obviously focusing on Dooku). Each one will be a collection of one shots from that Jedi's life as Yoda watches them grow from a youngling into an adult. These are meant as character studies, and as such the chapters may be shorter than usual and pretty introspective. And yes, these are a result of my inability to find a plot and stick with it... ;) I have been working on these in between homework assignments, though, so I've already got a few chapters written! Expect updates once every one or two weeks (every week to start!).

_Disclaimer:_ Felt I should write one since I haven't in a while... characters belong to the big man, but I claim the story! On a different note, Yoda is Dooku's master in this story, and I'm using the name 'Yan' for Dooku's first name. It's technically a fan-made name, but I think it fits and so I'm gonna use it. I mention Yoda as his master since Yoda wasn't technically Dooku's actual master; that's the relationship in this fic, though.

Again, this is a character study hoping to delve deeper into who Dooku is, what made him who he is, and how he became a Sith. It's also a study into Yoda as well, perhaps more so than it is into Dooku... anyways, hope you guys enjoy! :)

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A shadow. Slippery, subtle, and clever. The boy is utterly _drenched_ in the Force... and yet Yoda wonders at the nature of it. The shadow, that is. The Force is different with this one, somewhere in between the two contrasting sides. Here, in the presence of so many other light-siders, the boy almost feels dark.

And then Yan smiles at him, a grin that reveals three missing teeth - he lost them all within a week - and the ancient master melts at the sight. He lets a soft sigh escape him, silently admonishing his weakness for children. Particularly _this_ child. The boy has reached his heart somehow and he knows that he'll never be free of that soft grip.

As if somehow sensing this unknown secret, Yan lets out a satisfied giggle and runs over to the wizened old troll, stumbling as he tries to stop. Yoda watches, both amused and concerned, as the four-year-old promptly face-plants right at his feet.

He twists his gnarled stick into the mud, humming softly. "Okay are you, young one?"

A muddied mop of dark hair lifts a little to reveal that toothless grin once more, and the soft grip grows stronger around his heart. The Force whispers a warning and slithers its way around the boy, a shadowy current that raises only questions and gives no answers.

"Master Yoatha!" the boy fairly squeals, his delight completely misplaced among the unseen shadows. "I lost another toof!"

Yoda laughs, both acknowledging and ignoring the Force's warning in one fell swoop. "So you have."

The Jedi master listens once more, but the Force is silent now, and all he hears are Yan's exuberant shouts as he runs towards the other younglings, apparently satisfied with Yoda's gentle agreement.

The boy is special. Yoda knows this, both from the way his heart twists at every smile Yan sends his way, and also from the unforeseeable future surrounding him. It's a shadow, and Yoda wonders at the nature of it.

He wonders whether it will end in peace or pain. He wonders if the boy is a shadow as well...

But the answer doesn't matter, not in the current moment. All Yoda knows is that the toddler that's teetering around the other children in graceless, loopy circles has just become a permanent fixture in what remains of his long life.

And he's okay with that, shadow or not.

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_Like I said: short. Next one's longer! ;)_

_Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

The word 'poise' comes to mind at the beginning of every single day, every time Yoda watches Yan pour the morning tea. His padawan is the perfect picture of confidence and grace, serenity mixing with power.

And Yan _is_ powerful. Yoda wonders if the boy knows it yet. He thinks not, simply for the way Yan is always seeking to impress and constantly brooding upon every failure.

"Tense, you are," he observes before taking a slow sip of the tea that Yan has set before him. The taste sends a shiver of pleasure through his little frame. A perfect blend of sweet spices and bitter gnute water. His padawan has learned the art of tea-making well...

Seemingly ignorant of the silent thanks that Yoda has sent him over the bond, Yan shuffles a bit and looks away. "No, master. I'm tired is all."

Yoda sets the tea down, slightly irked that he's been forced to forego yet another peaceful morning... but his padawan is far more important than his own wants. He settles back and stares steadily at the lad. "A question, it was not."

The dark-haired youth flicks dark eyes to him once more. "Why won't you let me enter the tournament, master?"

Ah, so it is that again. Yoda is no fool; he does not miss the pride that is building up around a slowly-growing ego. A 'poised' ego, yes, but an ego nonetheless. It is a fire just waiting to be fanned.

"This conversation, yesterday we had," he answers, squinting a little. The Force has suddenly grown a shade colder. "Too prideful, you are. Think yourself above them, you do."

He never was one to mince words, and with a selectively ignorant padawan he is not about to change it now. He watches as Yan's eyes narrow slightly. Perhaps the boy _does_ know how much power is running through his veins. "All due respect, master... but I _am_ above them. I've excelled in all of my courses. I'm leagues above their level of mastery. Master, I would _school_ them."

Yoda has to agree, and he _is_ proud of the boy for how much he's achieved at such a young age. And yet...

"Different is your Force, young one?" he questions, reaching for his tea once more. He takes a lazy sip, letting the hot nectar soothe his throat.

His padawan's brow furrows. "Different, master? Well, no. I don't suppose so..."

"Stronger?" he inquires.

Yan shakes his head, his black braid whipping back and forth. "No, master."

"Brighter?"

"No... master, why do you ask? I already know this."

And therein lay the issue. Yoda smiles gently. "Do you, padawan?"

The boy finally reaches for his own tea and takes a tentative seat across from him. "Yes, master."

"Hmph," Yoda huffs, taking another sip. "Know, you do. But believe it, you do not. Serve the same Force, all Jedi do, Yan. Serve this family, you shall, and usurp them, you shall not."

Yan answers with something of a forced smile, and Yoda senses a shadow yet again.

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_Thanks for reading! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

Is he shocked when the blade levels itself near his palpitating chest? Somewhat. Is he disappointed that he has to yield? Well yes, of course; no true warrior likes losing... Does he learn from his defeat? It's been centuries and he still has much to learn, so yes. Always. Yoda always learns.

Is he proud? Regretfully so... at first. And then the regret is gone because he loves this child, and secretly he has always ignored that bit about attachment. Wisdom follows old age, and he knows now (has known for some time) that this part of life, bonding with someone else, is not wrong.

Is he concerned?

Yes.

This accomplished, exceedingly skilled teenager has no semblance of humility whatsoever. And the blade still hovers close enough that Yoda still feels its heat. The soft emerald light beside him vanishes as the old master allows the blade to retreat into the hilt, and he flicks his matching eyes up to his padawan's face. "Yield, I do, padawan. Finished, we are."

Something flickers in those dark eyes, then. Something Yoda has trouble identifying. For a brief moment, he's tempted to liken it to a broiling thunderhead, but he dismisses the thought the second it dissipates and Yan's blade is shrinking away. Yoda hops lightly to his feet and summons his stick to a gnarled hand, still staring at the boy.

Yan smirks a bit. "Sorry, master. I couldn't help but bask in my hard-earned victory."

"Hmph," Yoda grunts, calling his stick over and using it to pull himself to his feet. The Force has sustained him for many, many years and yet there are some things (like aching joints) that are apparently inevitable. He doesn't fault the Force any. "Hard-earned, yes. Very skilled, you have become, young one. Proud of you, I am."

Yan actually beams for a moment. The expression is genuine, and Yoda feels a part of himself melt at the sight. He hates the fact that it will only last for just that, a moment. "But too much pride in yourself, you have," he continues.

The grin on his young protégé's face falters, and then slips away as if it had never been there. "No, master," Yan stutters, looking away. "It's not pride... it's satisfaction. Fulfillment. Success. Am I not allowed to be happy over that?"

The kid sounds defeated all of a sudden, and both of them realize that no victory was won here.

Yoda tilts his head, studying the boy with gentle eyes. "Happy, you are?" he asks without really asking. Both of them know this as well.

Despite the fact, young Dooku nods. A ghost of his previous smile flits across his expressive features. Expressive only to Yoda. This boy who is born of noble blood, this boy who appears to epitomize the very definition of 'elegance', is an open book to the ancient master. Cold and stoic he may appear to all others, but to Yoda he is completely human. And hurting.

Yoda doesn't know why.

"Yes. Yes I am," Yan agrees. "Mostly happy. I know that pride in oneself is wrong, master, but the part of me that isn't happy _does_ feel a bit of pride. Am I not allowed even a little?"

The Force attempts to warn him; Yoda can feel it. Can _hear _it, really. The shadow will grow if he is not careful, here. But even he can't bring himself to break such a beautiful spirit. _Force forgive me..._

He offers his own version of a smirk. All of the younglings might have been frightened by such an expression crossing his wrinkled face, but Yan's ghost of a smile only grows. "I suppose you are," he confesses, knowing that he's just made a terrible mistake. "But let it blossom, you should not."

The grin remains on the boy's face, and the two of them share a rare moment together. One in which both recognize the attempt of the other to understand.

"I understand, master," Yan says.

Yoda nods and smiles, continuing to try. "Good. Supper, we should eat."

A lighthearted chuckle echoes through the small room and Yoda feels his heart jump a little. For a second, there was a brief flicker of light there...

"But _I'm_ cooking today."

"Nonsense," he huffs, hobbling towards the door. "A fine cook, I am."

"If you're trying to build up my immune system to withstand the most potent of toxins, then I guess you are," his padawan quips, brushing by without the least bit of courtesy.

"Cheeky brat, you are," Yoda mutters.

Yan only laughs, and the ancient master basks in the warm light that follows.

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_I know they're short... but hopefully enjoyable! :) Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

Coruscant is a busy place. Most would politely disagree with him and tell him it's not busy, but that instead it's hectic and the _epitome_ of chaos. Speeders zip between the planet's skyline, multiple layers deep. The air smells of ion fumes accompanied by the dense, musky odor that only a high population can create. And at the deepest levels of Coruscant's underworld, hundreds of death sticks pass between dealers and the cantinas practically vibrate with all of the business they're receiving. Millions of people commute back and forth. Most have a job they're trying to get to, many are headed towards lunch or are in search of an afternoon snack, and a few are simply out enjoying the sights.

Coruscant is a busy place. Yes, only busy... Yoda has seen busier in his long life. This is what he often tells those who try to argue the point, but he has learned to only tell them once and then let them believe what they wish.

Perhaps he is one of only a rare few who are capable of finding solitude in such a place. This perspective (_truth_, really) affords him the privilege of meditating where others would never try to meditate. This is what he is attempting to do on the lower roof of the Temple, the one that stretches all the way around with only a couple of breaks. It's a flat, smooth surface with a nice view of the city and a slight breeze.

"It's cold and hard, master."

It is an _attempt_, to be sure... his padawan seems to have a slightly _skewed_ perspective of what he himself sees in the place. He pats the surface next to him, his rough claws clacking against the duracrete. 'Cold and hard' is one view, he supposes.

He prefers 'smooth and open'.

"Sit, padawan. Tell me what you see, you should."

The teenager huffs a bit, though it's a quiet, dignified huff. Yan would never allow his irritation to be so obvious.

"Tell you what I see..." his padawan echoes, inserting the slightest current of sarcasm.

Yoda hears it and merely smiles, gesturing towards the towering buildings and layers of traffic.

Yan sends him a wry look and then studies the scene. The young man actually gives it a sincere effort, something that Yoda has always appreciated. Though easily annoyed and possessive of a somewhat haughty personality, Yan does have a keen sense of perception. He is intelligent, bordering on brilliant, and Yoda has had many philosophical conversations with him about the simplest of things.

"Well, master, I see a lot of speeders, far too many people wasting time being in a rush, a dark pit at the bottom, and a toxic cloud of fumes hanging over the entire skyline."

Ah, yes. His snarky little brat also has been infected with a strong case of pessimism. "Anything good, do you see?"

This earns him a smirk, but another thoughtful pause follows. "Life," he says after a bit. "I see life, master."

One of Yoda's ears lifts a little as he turns his head. "Sound disappointed, you do."

Yan sighs. "Life is good because of what it is without everything around it. But this place is... is... _heavy_."

Cold, hard, boring, too windy, too noisy... Yoda has heard many descriptions of this place. His padawan has just offered something new. "Heavy?" he repeats, mulling it over silently. He wonders what, exactly, his boy is describing. Something tells him it's more than just the view.

Yan doesn't look at him, but he does finally take a seat at his side. The motion is quiet, graceful, and oddly eager. Yoda has many words to describe his padawan, but 'eager' has never entered the discussion. Yan is slow to trust, slow to answer (at least without hiding behind his polished wit), and slow to reveal anything of himself. He is measured, calculating, and cautious.

Never eager.

"It's cold and hard. I wasn't talking about the surface, master. This place feels cold and it's all sharp edges and rigid barriers. And that view?" He carelessly throws a hand in the direction of the rush-hour traffic. "It's heavy, smothered in shadows."

Shadows. _Yes_, he silently agrees. _I feel them too, young one._ "Speak of the Temple, you do," he states.

Now there is hesitation. Yan may not agree with much of what Yoda has taught him (Yoda knows this to be true), but he has always been respectful. Even now he can tell the boy is trying hard to speak politely.

His padawan turns and finally looks at him directly. It's both a challenge and a call for help. "I don't feel like I belong here, master. I do fine in my classes, but it's just so restricting."

Yoda's heard this before from other initiates, other padawans, and even a knight or two. But never from someone who is this close. It's unsettling.

He tries to hide his uneasiness by flicking his gaze back towards the city, but the view is no longer what it was and he can still feel Yan's perceptive eyes burning into him. "Feel restricted in what ways, do you?"

The searing heat fades away as the boy follows his gaze. "It's hard to say, master," he mutters, almost too low to hear. "I'm hardly allowed to _feel_."

Yoda blinks. What should have been a statement bordering on furious had come out hollow and somewhat dry. He spares Yan a quick glance and then sighs. Perhaps it's simply a phase. _This too shall pass..._ The old adage brings him no comfort, however, and he scoots a little closer. If nothing else (he has no words right now) he can provide a steady presence to lean on.

"Talk more, we will," he promises. And they will; he cares too much for this boy to leave him feeling so lost.

Yan looks at him again. "When?"

Yoda lets a heavy breath out through his teeth, suddenly feeling exhausted. He won't' hide, though. Not from him. "Talk, we will, when have an answer, I do," he quietly replies.

He feels unexpectedly warm when his padawan offers him a small smile. Against his better judgement, he smiles back, confused as to why they are smiling after such a discussion.

Yan shatters his confusion with just a few words. "I thought I was the only one."

Ah, yes. He forgets sometimes how short life is for humans, and how long some lessons take to learn. He reaches out and gently pats his padawan's arm. "Alone in your struggles, you will never be. Common, they are, but easily defeated, they are not."

The boy gives him a wry smirk. "Thanks... I think."

The attack is swift, and entirely expected, and Yoda frowns at the fact that he's become so predictable to this child. His gimer stick hits empty air and Yan is gracefully retreating even as he chuckles. "Too slow, master..."

"Hmph," he snorts, effecting a wrinkly pout.

But the boy is smiling, and his eyes are smiling, and the bond feels a little warmer, and the shadows are gone for a moment, and Yoda wishes he can stay in this moment for just a while longer.

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_For those who are keeping up with this story, I apologize for the wait. The days were flying by for a while. :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

"Ready are you, young one?"

"I've _been_ ready, master! _You're_ the one holding us up!"

Yoda smirks, but he doesn't quicken his pace as he finishes up some last-minute entries into the mission records and double-checks his list of things to bring and things to do before they leave. He does so simply to irritate his young charge and to test the boy's patience.

He doesn't need to, he knows. Yan possesses much patience, and the outburst only came when asked and was accompanied by a wry spark twinkling in those brown eyes.

"Rush me, you must not," he chides, somewhat ruefully. "Old, I am. Only so fast can these joints move."

"If only that were true during 'saber practice," Yan retorts, daring to glance down at him.

Yoda only chuckles a little and waves dismissively. "When old, you are, every opportunity to rest, you will take."

"I doubt it."

"Hmph. Perhaps centuries, you do not have, but rest you still should."

"War doesn't rest, criminals don't rest, darkness doesn't rest, so why should I? I can rest when I'm dead." Yan says this so matter-of-factly that Yoda knows he's not trying to be pessimistic or sarcastic.

It's simply a truth that his padawan believes.

Much wisdom and much intelligence his boy truly does possess, and yet he's so blind in so many ways. Yoda doesn't rebuke him for being pessimistic or for believing such things. Instead, he simply offers his own perspective. "Mmm... too much work, that is. Enjoy the light, Yoda cannot, when chasing the darkness, he is."

There is no immediate reply, which means that his padawan is considering the words. Yoda smiles as he finishes his pre-leave report, and he turns with a gentle tap of his gimer stick. "Ready, I am. Pick out a ship, did you?"

Yan is silent for a moment, obviously still thinking. "Yes. Number 3447C. A grey one."

Short, precise answer. Still thinking. "Follow you, I will."

To the hangar, is what he'd literally meant. But young Dooku is of the philosophical sort and has an eye for symbolism, even where there isn't any. This time, however, Yoda intended for there to be two meanings, because Yan is a brilliant Jedi that casts an unmistakably dark shadow.

This boy will always chase the darkness. He knows that. What he doesn't know is what the cost of that will be, and so right now he does the only thing he can do. He offers the boy a promise.

And Yan doesn't disappoint. His dark eyes flick down to Yoda's own and stay there, unwavering in their intensity. "Will you?" he asks, quietly so that only Yoda can hear him.

The ancient master only smiles. "Of course. A stranger to darkness, I am not. Follow you all over the galaxy, I will. Once you are finished, rest I will."

Yan's mouth twitches in something of a smile. "Are you sure you'll be able to rest once I'm finished?"

What that means, Yoda truly doesn't want to know. He wholeheartedly believes in foreshadowing; he's seen his fair share of it over the years, and everything he's seen in regards to this young man, this boy, this _child_ is leading somewhere dark. It's cruel, he sometimes thinks, the way some are destined for pain and destruction.

But he's been wrong before. Sometimes things can change rather quickly, and he hopes with everything in him that he's wrong this time. But if not, he will endure. He always has.

"Much darkness, have I seen," Yoda murmurs. "And much rest, have I had. Chase the darkness if you must. Chase you, I always will."

The smile that blossoms on his padawan's face is worth the knot that's suddenly tied itself in his stomach. "Thanks, master..." And his boy means that 'thank you'. It's genuine. A rarity that Yoda will always cherish. One dark brow shoots up soon after as Yan fixes him with a 'look'. "It could be a long chase, you know."

The knot tightens, but Yoda only smiles and gestures to the long hallway that leads to places unknown. He knows that Yan is excited even if he doesn't show it as much as other padawans. The first mission is always exciting. "Then begin, we should, hmm?" he quips.

Yan laughs. "Yes, we probably should." And then he's off, quick enough to show his excitement and nervous energy, but not so quick that Yoda can't keep up. Politely considerate. That's his padawan.

And perhaps a bit attached, as well, but Yoda knows he'll never hear it from the boy himself. The knot loosens a little at the thought, though. Maybe Yan will never say it simply because he knows he doesn't need to.

Yes. Attached, this boy is. But attachment is not a one-way thing, and as Yan politely hurries down the hallway, as he chases after the ever-churning darkness, Yoda does exactly what he said he would do (no matter the hurt to come, no matter the cost).

He follows.

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_Thanks for continuing to read my stories! Hope you guys enjoy them! :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Longest one so far! Enjoy! :)_

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"That creature is entirely out of place, here."

Yoda follows Yan's gaze with a soft hum. Their point of interest is a giant insect of sorts. Spider-like in its appearance, it culminates in a small head that possesses rows of razor sharp teeth in a powerful jaw. Among the lush vegetation, colorful fauna, and somewhat globular wildlife of Felucia, Yoda has to agree with his padawan's assessment. The giant acklay is indeed out of place.

Not surprising since this planet is not its native habitat. "Adapted nicely, it has, hmm?"

Yan huffs, surprisingly put off by something that Yoda deems fairly insignificant. "It's an overgrown pest, master. This place is _alive_ and _warm_, and that thing is... is..." The boy gives a flippant wave of his hand. "Cold. Sinister."

This time Yoda sighs. It's tiring, sometimes, the way that Yan can make something so mundane into something so profoundly, yet mistakenly, important. It's an acklay, for Force's sake. "Perhaps see you the same way, it does," Yoda offers, but it's said with an edge to it. While a different perspective is what he was going for, what comes out is a straight-up argument.

So be it. Even centuries-old Jedi masters have their limits, and slogging through a damp, sticky, gnat-infested, heavily forested planet is _not_ something he is currently enjoying. He stares rather forlornly at his gimer stick. It's gained a few pounds worth of slimy mud over the last few hours (in a few more it will resemble a discolored eel out of water...).

"Doubtful," Yan retorts. "Its eyes are too small to see me at this distance."

"No need to see you, it has, when smell you and hear you, it can," Yoda points out as he yanks his stick from the earth's firm grip (it _squelches_ in protest). He's not aiming for caution or subtlety when he plants it into the muck once more (_plopk!)._

Right on cue, the beast lets out a vicious roar and begins to scuttle its way in their direction, crashing through trees and uprooting shrubs in its rage.

Yoda wonders if the Force is laughing its fool metaphorical head off right now. "Heard you, it did," he snaps.

Yan glares at him, dark eyes narrowed and flashing. "Maybe it heard you battling with that muck for that Force-forsaken stick of yours!"

Yoda swings. Stick meets shin and Yan lets out a very undignified shriek. The acklay roars. Yoda yanks on his stick but the thrice-forsaken thing won't _budge_...

Blast it.

The acklay's next bellow is cut short as a wall of sheer energy is thrust into it and it careens off to the side, stunned into silence. It makes no move to get up. Yoda shifts, his feet making odd sucking noises as he turns to face his young charge.

The boy is glaring at the offending object which is still plastered to his shin, a glob of greenish, brownish slime holding it in place. "Is this to be a _permanent_ reminder of the value of humility?" he snipes.

For a brief second, Yoda considers leaving the stick there just to teach the boy a much needed lesson, but then he considers how far they still have to walk. He wants his stick. "A reminder it was not," he replies, not able to help the small smile that spreads across his face. "An attempt at pounding a bit of humility directly into you, it was."

Yan snorts a little at this and carefully holds out his leg as his master reaches for it. "You've tried that multiple times, remember? I've got bruises to show for your many attempts."

"Hmph," Yoda huffs, grabbing hold of the stick. "Learn the lesson, you should. Then bruised, you would not be."

"Yes, master," his padawan responds.

Yoda glances up and finds dark eyes twinkling with amusement and he can't help but chuckle softly. "Keep trying, I will," he declares. Then he focuses on his stick, taking a firm hold of it. "Hold still." Without further warning, he yanks, drawing on the force to both keep his grip steady and add a bit of _pull_. The stick rips free and Yoda stares at it, face twisted in what he knows is a frightening grimace.

A large piece of cloth is now residing where Yan's leg used to be. Consequently, his padawan has a nicely shorn hole in his trousers and is once more glaring in his direction. "Mmmm," he hums, more concerned with the dignity of his stick than the dignity of his padawan. "Pitiful, my stick looks."

"Yes, well... nice to know you're concerned about your stick. What about my leg?" Yan whines.

Yoda chuckles, not even sparing his boy's nasty bruise a second glance (Yan doesn't _whine_, and it's rather amusing). "Bruises... heal they do, hmm? Perhaps if hidden, it is not, then consider why you have it, you will." He pauses before resuming his trek. "And whine, you should not. Accomplish nothing, it does."

Yan clears his throat, drawing himself up into a more elegant stance as if he's finally noticing how childish he's becoming. "I was not _whining_, master," he states. "I was merely trying to inform you of your misplaced concern. How am I supposed to walk the rest of the way on _this_?" He gestures emphatically at his discolored shin.

Well, if Yoda is to be honest with himself (and he usually is), then he has to admit that it does look a little painful. But they are on Felucia, and there really is no pressing danger at the moment as long as his padawan doesn't disturb any more cold, sinister acklays, and it's not like a bruise can get infected, and Yoda senses no broken bones, and perhaps if young Dooku is limping and stumbling, then maybe Yoda will be fortunate enough to witness a few ungraceful face-plants, and then maybe this boy will stop being so _stubborn_ about his thrice-blasted, overly-inflated, mistakenly-entitled ego...

Humility. Yes. This will be as fine a lesson as he ever taught, and much more applicable. "Powerful, you are," he replies, turning once more to slog his way through the underbrush. "Perhaps heal it, you should."

He hears Yan huff, but the boy follows him. "Master, you _know_ I haven't had the time for practicing the proper techniques..."

Yoda doesn't even turn around, doesn't even spare the boy a glance, because he's suddenly growing irritated. And _nervous_. Force, he's never seen such stubbornness in one with so much potential, and he can't figure out how to get through...

_He's mine._

Yoda swallows, suddenly numb. The acklay had been all hugs and soft cuddles compared to that voice, that insistent cackle. Yan doesn't understand what _sinister_ really is, yet. He has no idea what Yoda has been hearing or feeling for the past few months... he hides it like he's been doing. But he can't hide the desperation that leaks into his voice.

"If help, you want, then ask for it, you should."

Yan squelches to a halt. "I shouldn't have to ask! _You're_ the one that did this, so you should be the one to fix it! And you _know_ I can't..." The padawan's voice stutters and dies as Yoda wheels on him faster than the muck should allow.

Yoda grinds his stick further into the slop, redirecting his desperate fury into the ground and away from them both. Does the boy truly not _feel_ it?

_Mine, he's mine. Try to reach him... I dare you, master of light. Save him if you can..._

Yoda shivers. Yan probably mistook it for anger, not fear.

_Where is your precious light, you ancient fool? Do you feel lost?_

"Master...?" Yan's voice is no longer as confident as it was, but he is not a coward. His boy does not shrink away from him.

Yoda stares into dark eyes. _Afraid, I am... but never lost._ "Follow you, I said I would, when the darkness, you chase."

Yan did not take that promise lightly, and his padawan falls silent, waiting for him to continue.

"A short chase, it was," he remarks, attempting a smile.

"Master, I don't understand..." Yan says, brow furrowing.

Yoda sighs, drained. "Sinister and sneaky, pride is. Much of this, you have, and trying to rid you of it, I am."

Had his feet not been stuck in the oozing filth, Yan might have shuffled them a bit. "Master, a difference of opinion isn't wrong..."

"A difference of opinion, pride is _not_." Yoda is finished speaking in riddles, in symbolism. Young Dooku specializes in the gray areas, but Yoda has always specialized in the black and white. He's lived too long to acknowledge anything else, and his willingness to dabble in the supposedly gray areas is only due to the human tendency to disregard the cut and dry.

"Pride," he continues, forcing his voice to be level, to be calm, "thinking oneself high, it is, and everyone else low. Help, a proud person does not need, hmm? Learn, a proud person does not, and truly _feel_, a proud person never will. Consumed with yourself, you are, young one. Very concerned for you, I am."

Yan stands there, clearly miserable, but expectedly flushed. He's angry. "I suppose my fractured leg is s testament to your _concern_."

_He doesn't hear you, lightsider..._

Yoda winces, unable to stop the cold creeping up his spine. Pictures. Yan has always learned well through imagery, and perhaps Yoda was too hasty in discarding riddles and metaphors. Huffing slightly in frustration, and mostly in desperation, he narrows his gaze. "If running towards a cliff, you are, and unable to see it, complain about the broken bones, will you, when knock you off course, someone does?"

Yan looks away then, offering a curt nod. He seems to swallow down a retort and then looks back. "Would you help me heal it? It hurts."

_Hear me, he may not... but trying, he is_. Yoda sets his stick aside and reaches for his boy's leg. "Always give you what you want, love does not," he murmurs, catching Yan's eye. "Hurt sometimes, it does."

Yan finally smirks a bit. "Am I to think of your love for me every time you make contact with that thing?"

Yoda only turns his attention to the bruise. His silence is answer enough.

"I guess you don't whack that many people, do you..."

_Only the ones I truly love, padawan._

The 'thank you' is left unsaid, but Yoda feels it in the warm current leaking across their bond. Oddly enough, he hears nothing more from the darkness.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts... ;)_


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